


star gleam on sweaty nights

by orphan_account



Series: gift fics [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Beverly Crusher/Jack Crusher/Jean-Luc Picard background, M/M, Reunion Sex, Star Trek: AOS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 01:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12783855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Darling." The pad of Will's thumb brushes along the damp, sensitized curve of Wesley's lower lip. "I'm going to fucking ruin you."





	star gleam on sweaty nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ships_to_sail](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ships_to_sail/gifts).



> For my darling C on this, the anniversary of her birth.  
> Happy birthday, lovely. It's a true sign of my love that I wrote you angsty reunion porn.
> 
> While this is technically a sequel to [Frustrated](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8630773), either work can be read as a standalone.
> 
> Title from Roberta J. Hill's [Star Quilt](https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/star-quilt).

It's been three months. Three long, excruciating months of waiting without word. Constant stonewalling from Starfleet Intelligence. Empty reassurances from his parents as they exchange tight-jawed smiles that don't reach their eyes. He's heard Jean-Luc actually  _ raise his voice _ on the comm in his ready room at least twice, which is anyone else's equivalent of shoving everything atop their desk onto the floor with an insubordinate snarl. So when the door to their quarters slides open and Will is standing there, Wesley's heart actually falters in his chest.

"You're here." Wesley lurches out of the desk chair, PADD clattering unheeded to the floor from nerveless fingers. He stutter steps toward the door. Toward Will. "You're home."

Will looks tired in the most bone deep weary sense of the word. His hair is too long, flopping down across his forehead and liberally sprinkled with silvering hairs. It's a stark contrast to the uniform brown shade and precise every-two-weeks-trimmed look he's sported for years with a wink and a "you know those strict grooming standards" excuse. Beneath the beard his face is thinner, cheekbones and jawline razor sharp. The slimmer shape of his face reminds Wesley of holos of Will during his Academy days. He was all gangly limbs and floppy hair, head always tilting back on a long, silent laugh. The lines of his uniform are all off, too. His shoulders are still making a mockery of the seams, but the fabric hangs too loosely around his middle and thighs.

"I'm home."

Will looks at Wesley with a lush, bruising tenderness that makes Wesley ache, bright and sudden beneath his breastbone. The travel bag slips from Will's long fingers to the floor as the door slides shut behind him. One of his hands comes up to gently, oh so gently, cradle Wesley's jaw. His voice is a low, soothing rumble that Wesley can feel right down to the very marrow of his bones. 

"Darling." The pad of Will's thumb brushes along the damp, sensitized curve of Wesley's lower lip. "I'm going to fucking ruin you."

A desperate "please" spills from Wesley's mouth. The "fuck, I missed you" follows swiftly after, a confession and a plea and a prayer all wrapped up in four words that only just escape before Will's hands start shifting. He clutches at Wesley's shoulders and they're crashing together.

Kissing Will has always been a fully body experience. His teeth and tongue and lips keep Wesley's mouth occupied. One long thigh insinuates its way between Wesley’s splayed legs. A burst of glorious, much-needed friction that briefly short circuits his brain.

"F-fuck," Wesley rasps when they briefly part for air. Will's big hands are everywhere. Smoothing over Wesley's hip. Clutching the hair at the nape of his neck. The pads of his fingers reverently tripping down each vertebrae of Wesley's spine. Then those gentle, calloused hands are wrapping firmly around the globes of Wesley's ass and squeezing. Wesley shudders and gasps wetly, taking great heaving breaths as their foreheads press together.

"I thought I'd never. I thought. I." Wesley trembles as he cups Will's gorgeous, precious, too-thin face in his own smooth, smaller hands. The familiar scrape of beard against his palms is strangely grounding. "Never disappear on me again, Will." His voice cracks like it hasn't in years, since before they even met. He presses his face into the dear, sweet curve of Will's neck. Breathes in the sweat-salt tang of his skin, the spicy sweetness of his aftershave, the faint citrus bloom of his shampoo. "I wouldn't survive it a second time."

"Never, sweetheart," Will swears, hands rubbing soothing, rhythmic circles over Wesley's back. "I'll never make you live without me."

"You can't promise that." Wesley's laugh is damp and crumpled around the edges, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

His mother warned him about this, when they filed their partnership paperwork with command so they'd get joint postings. She warned him then, because she'd finally realized this thing with Will wasn't just a passing fancy. She told him how profoundly it can hurt, being this full of love for someone. And it does. It does hurt.

"But you gotta say no to these assignments from now on. Please."

Love hurts, but damn if he'd give it up for anything. Wesley feels like he's near to overflowing with it, all this love for Will, but can't bear the thought of letting a single drop spill over. Wants Will to feel every ounce of it. Wants it to fill them both up so Will knows how much he's loved, wanted, needed, and never leaves him to wait and worry like that again.

"That I can promise," Will agrees, one of his hands grasping the back of Wesley's neck, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I promise, Wesley."

"How tired are you?" Wesley asks once he stops feeling like he's about to fly apart at the seams.

"Not that tired." Wesley pulls back and narrows his eyes. Will grins, soft and dimpled and Wesley's heart keeps doing really inadvisable things in his chest, he might drop by the medbay to get that checked out. "I caught a nap on the shuttle. I missed you. Let me show you how much."

"Will, I hate to break it to you," Wesley laughs as Will walks him backwards toward the bed, arms still wrapped around each other and legs tangling fit to almost trip them up, "but your lines have always been terrible."

"And yet they always work on you." Will waggles his eyebrows as Wesley's knees hit the edge of the bed.

"Sorry, but no." Wesley giggles as Will tips him backwards across the bedspread. "I love you despite your terrible lines, not because of them."

"Say that again," Will demands. He makes quick work of Wesley's oversized sleep pants -- Will's, worn soft and thin from years of wear -- and socks before kneeling to remove his own shirt.

"Your lines are terrible?" Wesley leans up enough to wrestle his way free of his sweatshirt. He cocks an eyebrow when he emerges from the sweatshirt and sees Will mock-scowling down at him.

"No." Will shoves their clothes aside and hauls Wesley up the bed until he's resting back against the pillows. "The part about you loving me."

"I love you." 

Wesley has always loved to watch Will's face when he says it. Every time he looks like a man who's been starving in the desert, gifted with food and water when he's just about to give up all hope. 

Just now it makes for an unfortunate comparison. Will's out of his clothes and it's even more obvious that whatever this assignment was, it was physically gruelling. Will isn't underweight, not  _ quite _ , but he lost the meager middle-age pounds he's always grousing about. He's been pared down to the essentials, all hard muscle and sharp angles. He's still taller and broader overall just much bigger than Will, who never got that final promised growth spurt and whose build is most generously described as 'wiry' or 'lithe.' 

"I love you." 

Wesley presses a kiss to the bristly underside of Will's jaw. His hands slide down to Will's hips and he very carefully doesn't startle when he realizes how visible the abdominal muscles and hipbones are, now. Wesley is used to seeing Will with a little more curve, flesh with a little more give under Wesley's grasping hands. He's just a bit smaller and harder all over. That and the long separation is enough that their hands feel slightly clumsy on one another, everything just a hair off from what they're used to.

"Fuck, Will, I love you. I love you so much it hurts." Wesley slides one hand up to pet at the too-long hair at the nape of Will's neck and that's different, too, but it's still Will. His Will, who he's missed with every breath for the last 94 days. "I missed you every moment of every day and --"

Will curses and silences Wesley with a harsh meeting of mouths that nearly draws blood and goddamn. 

"Wesley, I want you to fuck me." And it's not really a question, but there's something hesitant lingering in the tightness of his expression.

"Anything you want," Wesley nods, immediately. And he means it, in any and all ways. It must be clear as day, too. Will breaks into this wide, crinkle-eyed grin that erases roughly a decade's worth of worry from his face and steals the breath from Wesley's lungs and oh. Oh.

Will really is going to fucking ruin him in every possible way.

Wesley can learn to live with that.

After that there's an awkward, knee-knocking transition where they're switching positions and grabbing supplies from the side tables. Eventually they wind up with Will on his back, leaning against most of the pillows and the headboard, with a pillow tucked under his hips. He'd vetoed lying on his stomach with a fervent "I want to see your face" and Wesley had blushed all the way down to his chest, but agreed.

Wesley kneels over Will with his fingers dripping slick all over the coverlet and suddenly he just stops. He just has to stop and stare for a moment. Nothing has ever been as lovely, as perfect as Will, here in their rooms. Finally. Finally, Will is here. He's here and he's staring back with a look of such naked want on his face that it makes desire curl low and hot in Wesley's gut. His chest heaves underneath Wesley's right palm where it rests, fingers faintly trembling, over Will's heart.

"You comfortable?"

Will gently guides him down for a kiss, gentler and less frantic than any they've shared so far. A soft meeting of lips and tongues that sends heat sliding down to pool at the base of Wesley's spine.

"Yeah," Will pants, breaking the kiss. "Yeah, I'm comfortable. Now would you please get on with it, because I need you in me yesterday."

"You know," Wesley grins, pressing fleeting kisses wherever his mouth passes as he slides down Will's torso for a better angle, "I don't think Command would accept 'we haven't had sex in three months' as a good reason for breaking the Temporal Accords."

"How did I forget," Will laughs, a chuckle that Wesley can feel rumbling low as he presses a kiss below Will's navel, "that you had such a smart mouth on you?"

"No idea," Wesley murmurs into the sweet, sweat-slick crease of Will's thigh. "I suppose I'll just have to jog your memory."

And before Will can say anything Wesley's pressing two fingers in to the second knuckle and licking a stripe up the underside of Will's cock.

"Fuck." Will hisses, head thumping back into the pillows and his hands fisting the coverlet. Wesley glances up and is pleased to see that they got the right angle for the pillows. Will can still watch the entire proceedings while slumped bonelessly against the soft stack. "Your fucking  _ mouth _ , Wes."

Wesley starts scissoring his slick fingers in time with the bobbing of his head on Will's cock. When he gives an appreciative hum around the thick, hot length Will lets loose a low moan and shudders.

"Wesley, hurry I want -- " Will's breath hitches. His eyes widen appreciatively when Wesley's free hand comes up to hold the base of his cock. Wesley pulls back to swirl his tongue around the sensitive head while he slips Will another finger. The hot clutch of Will around his slick fingers makes Wesley go a bit dizzy with want for a moment. "I want you to fuck me, please, Wes. I'm ready, I need --"

"Okay," Wesley cuts Will's pleading off, his own voice a harsh rasp. "Okay, Will, I've got you."

Wesley takes a moment to grab another handful of slick, liberally coating his cock before lining himself up.

"Wesley, please." Will's hands finally unclench from the coverlet and reach for Wesley's shoulders, instead. "Now, fuck, now, I --"

"I've got you, sweetheart," Wesley says, entering Will in one long, slow glide until he's seated all the way to the hilt.

"Fuck, you feel so perfect inside me." 

Will shudders and Wesley can feel it everywhere and he has to shut his eyes tight and recite astrometrics data for a good thirty seconds before he's sure this isn't going to end all too soon. He can feel Will's hands sliding down his back, clutching at his side, his hips, around to his ass.

"You okay if I move, Will?"

"I will actually murder you if you don't move soon, sweetheart," Will says, but when Wesley opens his eyes he's got a sweet, soft smile playing around the corners of his mouth and oh. 

Wesley leans down to kiss Will, changing the angle enough that he slides in just that little bit deeper and they both groan into the kiss. Wesley sets up a slow, undulating rhythm and in a few minutes it has them both gasping and panting. They're less kissing and more breathing one another's air, now, but Wesley has one hand buried in the shaggy hair at the back of Will's head and the other pressing finger-shaped bruises into the too-thin flesh of Will's hip and nothing has ever been this perfect.

"Not gonna last long," Wesley admits, using the hand at Will's hips to adjust the angle just a bit until --

"Shit, fuck, son of a --" Will curses, back arching against the pillows. The sweat glimmering in the hollow of his curving throat is too tempting and Wesley ducks his head down to lick it away, which draws a thick rasp from Will's throat. His hands clasp Wesley's hips, strong fingers trembling against him. "Darling," his voice shakes, just a little, but his eyes are wide and steady as he stares up at Wesley, "right there a few more times and it's not gonna be a problem."

Wesley presses a laughing kiss to the corner of Will's mouth. "Do you want a hand, or do you think you can come just like this, huh?"  He concentrates on nailing Will's prostate on every stroke and watches as Will's mouth falls open, panting and spitslick and swollen from kissing and fuck. "Think you can come just on my cock, Will? Could you do that for me?"

Will groans, but nods and his hands tighten around Wesley's hips as he meets him thrust for thrust. Wesley could get distracted just finally getting to look at him again. Has to remind himself he can look at him any time he wants, now, that he promised he's not leaving again, that --

"Stop thinking so hard, sweetheart," Will says, one hand coming up to cup Wesley's cheek. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. We're right here. I love you so much, you know that, don't you?"

"I do, I do know." Wesley nods, wondering if he looks half as frantic as he feels. He leans forward, shifting so he's got his weight on his forearms and their faces are just inches apart. His hips are snapping in time with the staccato tattoo of his heart and he can't look away from Will's eyes. "I love you more than anything in this life, Will."

Will's fingers spasm where they've slipped back into Wesley's hair and he stares for a long moment, the only sounds skin on skin and their panting breaths.

"Marry me, Wesley."

"Fuck!" Wesley slams into Will as the orgasm rips through him, blood roaring in his ears. Distantly he hears Will's groan, muffled into the side of Wesley's neck. He feels the hot rush of come between them as Will's orgasm trips on the heels of his own. For a few minutes neither of them can do much but pant wetly into each other's ears.

Eventually Wesley manages to pull out and slump to the side so he's not crushing Will with his full body weight. He rests his chin on Will's chest and waits for his gorgeous eyes to open.

"I won't hold you to it, you know." He grins when Will rolls his eyes. "Three months without mutual orgasms and all the hormones can really do a number on you."

Will snorts and reaches over into the side table that Wesley hasn't touched in three months, as if not touching any of Will's things would mean he'd have to come back and do it himself. When Will settles himself back against the pillows, he has a small box in his hands.

"I was going to ask before I left," Will says, smile a bit smug as he flips the box open. "But I didn't think it was fair to drop that on you and then disappear for who knew how long."

"You -- when did you?" Wesley shifts so he's propped on one elbow, staring at the simple silver ring cushioned in the box.

"I bought it when we were on Risa. Your mother came with me. It was that time you and Picard and your father went fishing. I said I was feeling a little under the weather."

"That was eleven months ago!" Wesley gapes, he's sure, unattractively. "You've been sure for -- "

"I've been sure for a lot longer than eleven months, but it never seemed like quite the right time." Will leans over and presses a soft, lingering kiss to Wesley's slack mouth. "But now I know that waiting for the right time was foolish. The promise of seeing you was the only thing that got me through the last three months with my sanity intact. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, of course, I --" Will's face splits into another one of those heartbreakingly gorgeous grins and Wesley can feel it again. He can feel that sensation in his chest, like he's going to overflow, like he can't contain all the love inside of him and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, but in the best way. "Will.  _ Yes _ ."


End file.
